The War of The Chibi
by candelight
Summary: Eighties Turtle Tot fiction! Yoshi Splinter decides to get his revenge upon the Shredder the best way he knows how....by sending his young sons over to Foot Headquarters with the instructions to...be themselves. Huh boy. THIS may not end too well.....


The War of The Chibi

~*~*~

Eighties Turtle Tot fiction! Yoshi (Splinter) decides to get his revenge upon the Shredder the best way he knows how....by sending his young sons over to Foot Headquarters with the instructions to...be themselves. Huh boy. THIS may not end too well.....

* * *

~*~*~

Hallo, everyone! ^^ It's seriously been too long since I've been able to write a comedy, petite though it may be. As you might have guessed, for those of you who have watched the eighties series of the TMNT and/or Turtles Forever, this Shredder is not really our favorite, maniacal laughing, dark samurai, leader-of-the-Foot though I'm an alien in a robotic suit Shred-head. Yep-back to a simpler time-when all the turtles would eat was pizza. (In the 03 series, they even eat Chinese. *Gasp.*) Back to when April O'Neil got kidnapped....oh....I'm guessing once a day, just to keep things regulated.

Also, to the Shredder with the purple cloak, in the *Coughs* Interpertation that he's certainly a very *Coughs, cough.* dangerous and evil villain to be trifled with.

*Explodes into a hacking fit.* Does anyone happen to have a cough drop?

Anyhoo, am hoping you like it. This fiction is a bit silly, but I think I should have a jolly time writing it. ^^

Please, take care, everyone.

~*~*~

_Quote:_

_**Delivery Man**: Hey, this is a 10. The tab is 13.  
**Michaelangelo**: You're two minutes late, dude.  
**Delivery Man**: Aw come on, I couldn't find the place!  
**Michaelangelo**: Wise man say forgiveness is divine, but never pay full price for late pizza.  
**Delivery Man**: [walking off_] I gotta get a new route. And I thought I delivered everywhere. 

_~*~_

Rain continued to plummet down on the streets of New York as a young man continued to drive through the raindrops, occasionally glancing at the instructions still clutched in his hand, the ink becoming slightly obscure at this point.

At last, he slowly began to decelerate as he ventured to a series of alleys, being careful to avoid the unsightly mess of potholes still guttering about these old shacks. Sheesh. Why on Earth did he always get the drop-offs in weird neighborhoods?

As the man slowly disembarked from his motorcycle, he cast a troubled glance about himself as he uncertainly pulled the steaming boxes from the back hold, looking around at the alleyway he had just come to a stop at.

It was a dead end.

He checked the small piece of paper still clutched in his hands.

This couldn't be right. Were one of his co-workers trying to play a trick on him?

He glanced at the instructions.

Step Forward....but what the heck was that supposed to mean? It was all, solid, brick WALL!

Growling slightly, pizzas in hand, he nonetheless stepped forwards, looking cautiously about himself.

He stepped forward again.

And again....

....and again, all the while peering at the soggy piece of paper clutched in his fingertips.

At last, the man sighed, rolled his eyes, and turned around from the wall, squinting out into the heavily pouring rain.

He checked his watch. His shift was almost over! Now, if he could just find this wretched address.......

The man groaned, still looking about himself as he walked over to a nearby, rusted grating.

"Terrific. Now where the heck is....."

He took another glance.

"....122 1/8?"

A timid voice from below his feet answered him.

"Um....you're standing on it, sir."

* * *

The man started violently, face turning a starkly alabaster as he had done so.

And, he immediately glanced below his feet, where nothing but darkness overlooked from the depths.

~*~

And, courageous as he was, he threw the boxes into the air, a scream tearing from his throat as he made a desperate beeline for his cycle, still crying out wildly as he sped away from the alley-thirty or so miles over the speed limit.

A pause in the alley. Then, with a slight sigh, a little head poked up after carefully removing the grating, blanketed in a blue mask.

He blinked, then, uncertainly pulled the discarded boxes towards him. They looked alright.

With another shrug, Leo called out into the air:

"Uh....thanks, Mister!"

He hurriedly handed the boxes to the figure below, eager to get out of the rain. As an afterthought, a small Leonardo placed a few bills underneath a small rock nearby, and waved at the figure's retreating form.

"...if you ever come back, keep the change!"

And with that, Leo and a giggling Mikey withdrew into the damp confines of the sewer tunnels, Leo suppressing a slight shrug as he did so.

~*~*~

* * *

Lunch had been a provincial savior. But, as the turtles happily munched on the artery clogging bits and pieces of heaven, boredom began to rear its ugly head once again.

And yawn like a yak on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Once again, the turtles found themselves with nothing to do, and so, it was without further adeu that the television was flickered back on.

Which was about as interesting as knocking holes in the wall, or counting the said holes in the wall, or repeatably banging one's head against the hole-smitten wall.

Don sighed wearily as he reached for a slice of pizza still on the table, eyes downcast as the television flickered dimly in and out of focus from a distance, its dull monotone readily making Donny's eyelids grow heavier.

He yawned, stretching ever so slightly from his position on the floor, bleakly staring about himself for awhile before taking a thoughtful bite out of his prized Italian cuisine-kudos from the Giordanno's three miles away on topside-and groaned ever so slightly as he fell back against the old couch cushions, staring at the old ceiling as he did so.

Day, to be quite honest, was Donatello's favorite time of the day. There was too much to see and do in the daytime to get bored easily. And, when one was a ninja-in-training turtle living underneath the city streets, well....

He shifted slightly on the cushions, frowning.

Either there was training, or exploring, or designing a new blueprint, or playing tag or leapfrog or hide-and-seek or that one game that didn't have an official name in which he and his brothers pretended to be possessed English children stalking the forest in the countryside while farmers fled in terror, and-!

But that was all nada, today. Don groaned again, an uncharacteristic pout beginning to break lose.

It had been raining exceedingly hard as of late....so that meant the rain-drains were all going on overtime.

Which meant they had had to stay indoors for a nightmarish eternity of two days. And, there was nothing left to do but sit in front of a television full of the most vile, painstakingly evil, and despicable things to ever march across the big screen:

_Informercials. _

Don shuddered.

After training, Master Splinter had simply gone into retreat to mediate upon something or other. Leo-now completely out of anything to read, was actually reading the daily paper from a nearby squashy chair, yawns escaping from himself occasionally.

Raph irritably changed the channel, passing by some court thingy, a Korean soap opera, and some wretched, horribly made movie about ninjas attempting to cut down bamboo to make a bridge.

.......and, from what Donny could see, they weren't doing such a lovely job.

Mikey whimpered from where he lay on the rug, looking crestfallen as he plunked his face to his pizza plate.

"Raph....please....if you love me, you'll kill me."

"I can't do that, Mikey."

The turtle clad in orange indignantly ripped his head forwards.

"Why not?"

Raph watched one of the ninjas attempt to cut down what was most likely meant to be a deranged saber tooth tiger with a pair of katana. But the real effect was that it looked like a St. Bernard with toothbrushes tied to both sides of his muzzle.

And the ninja was screeching wildly as it continued to slice and dice the paper covered with pictures of bamboo that was acting as the scenery, accidentally tearing the piece back enough to where a camera could be seen.

He sighed.

"I can't do that, Mikey," he said gruffly.

Mikey ripped his head up indignantly, sauce lightly spilling down his face.

"Why not?!"

Raph cast him a glare.

"Cause who's gonna be left to kill me?"

Mikey blinked ever so slightly.

"Oh. Good point."

Suddenly, his eyes brightened.

"Oooh! Oooh! I know! Donny can kill you, you kill me first, and Leo can kill both him and Donny in one massive homicide! It'll save the filing."

Leo frowned.

"No one's killing anyone, Mikey."

He swallowed as he turned the page. More lumber sales.

".....yet."

* * *

Donny crawled over to the TV, face still highly disinterested as he watched the 'ninjas' swipe at each other with mops. Mikey groaned again.

"Good thing these guys aren't lumberjacks."

Raph scoffed.

"No joke. The only things safe in the woods would be the trees!"

He turned his head to Leo, still scowling.

"Leo....are you REALLY reading the...."

He paused slightly, as if uttering a taboo word.

"....._newspaper_? I tried readin' it once, and before it put me to sleep, it just ticked me off!"

Don managed the slightest hint of a smile.

"EVERYTHING ticks you off, Raph. To crime, to croquet ball sales."

Raph rolled his eyes.

"Not....everything."

He paused.

"Okay, everything. But who the heck knows how to play croquet? It's like you gotta know what a crumpet is before you know croquette."

He rolled his eyes.

"And, trust me, the temptation to misuse those mallets is_ awful."_

The way his fingers twitched didn't make Mikey doubt it, and he inched away from Raph a few inches.

~*~*~

Leo dimly flicked through the pages, exhaling sharply as his eyes began to dull over.

"Mmm....something here about a children's show being canceled...." he mused vaguely as he continued to flick through the pages.

Mikey winced.

"That's never good news, Li. Why are you bothering telling us that?"

But, in an instant, a twinkling, may day, radius of hope entered his eyes, and he eagerly leaned forwards.

"Unless....is it....?!"

But Leo merely shook his head.

"The purple dino LIVES, Mikey. Sorry."

The turtle was about to snap back, when a slight, familiar, _tap, tap tapping _made its way into the room.

~*~*~

Splinter calmly made his way into the room, Raph's gaze flickering absentmindedly to the rat, and back.

"Hey, Sensei," he adjoined dully, eyes flickering back to a detergent commercial.

The brown rat raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as he settled onto a nearby chair, and, in the wink of an eye, snatched the remote control that had been, seconds before, loosely hanging in Mikey's hand.

The turtle frowned ever so slightly, wriggling his fingers back and forth ever so slightly, only feeling empty space. Tearing his world-empty eyes from the screen, he shot his gaze from his now control-less hands, to his Father now holding it as he searched through an old TV guide.

"Heyyy! Sensei!"

The rat ignored him as he flicked to a dog eared page, reading the small print with interest as he absentmindedly flicked through the channels.

"Too slow, Michelangelo. Besides, it is past two. I wish to watch my programs in peace."

He sighed.

"I believe Robert will leave Marcia for Stephanie, tonight. It will not be a pretty sight...." he mused, dark eyes flickering onto the turtles.

A fingertip found his chin, and he tapped thoughtfully as Raph moaned, and buried his head in his hands as the television flickered onto a commercial for Shreddies Oat Cereal.

Then, without warning, Splinter sighed, and wearily pressed the mute button on the remote, forcing the television into silence.

All four turtles glanced up at him questioningly as the rat lowered the device, clearly about to speak.

"My turtles...I do realize that being crampted up in the Lair is not doing you any good."

Don cast an astonished glance with his brothers. Master S was taking their side?

Maybe the roof was leaking again. Hopefully, he hadn't caught a cold by this point.

The rat lifted an eyebrow, but continued on, as if he had not guessed what they had been thinking.

"My sons.....perhaps....I could....ammend your not going outside the lair for a bit....if you would....stay away from the puddles. And dress warmly," he added sternly, glancing at the nearby raincoats hanging from a nearby hook.

A mischevious glint entered his eyes.

"Actually, my sons....I do have....to ask you something."

Already excited at the prospect of fresh air-or air as fresh as it can be from underneath the sewers, Leo had already staggered up, and was making a beeline for his nearby boots. He whipped his head around as Mikey struggled to pull on his hat, and Don began to button his jacket.

Raph was already tapping his boot impatiently by the door, wielding an umbrella much like a lance as Splinter sighed, half in exasperation, and half in amusement as he slowly stood, and limped over to help the turtles dress properly.

".....what I'd like to say is, as long as we are killing two birds with one stone.....and, as I wish you to have some amusement safely, I suppose we can always....."

His eyes glinted, and a smirk curved his mouth as the aged rat had a thought.

"...improvise, my dear sons."

~*~*~


End file.
